


Fire In Your Eyes

by Saaryaloki



Category: Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saaryaloki/pseuds/Saaryaloki
Summary: The pain of having a loved one ripped away from you is something no one will ever understand. You are fuelled by hatred, rage, another kind of power. You stand alone. Until you find someone who truly understands you...--Heavily out of practice so please forgive me. I just needed to write something because I am totally enamoured with Vinland Saga (and Thorfinn) and there isn't enough material out there. Needed an outlet. My writing style tends to be kind of like diary entries inner monologue vibes, with my protagonist generally darting back and forth on different tangents of thought which for me help the reader keep up with the context of the story, I apologise if you disagree with that as a style. I still hope you find it different and enjoy it.--Also full disclosure- this is not historically accurate at all. I have some references for research but this is just a little story I've been aching to write. Let's have some fun with it!For impatient peeps who want to jump straight into Thorfinn goodness jump to Rore, then to trussel and read on from there!(Also Thorfinn's character is aged up so he's about 19/20 years old)
Relationships: Thorfinn (Vinland Saga)/Original Female Character(s), Thorfinn (Vinland Saga)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Hel

I feel it important to mention that this is all completely non-canon but characters in the anime are used as they are all brilliant and really interesting. A lot of OC's, a ton of swearing and a whole lot of detail (studying Oscar Wilde recently hasn't helped so apologies if you find it a bit wordy., I can assure you as the story develops there will be more dialogue!). This little spin off has become my own little saga. I really hope you enjoy it!

ALSO; This cover of the first theme of the anime (which was INCREDIBLE) is what I imagine would be the theme for our girl's story! The same pain, anger and passion... Check it out. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fne0SvawflQ&feature=emb_title

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I haven't known this band of Vikings for too long, they'd invaded my village 4 months ago. A gang of thoughtless thugs led by a man called 'Gorm', a huge, ugly, balding man with a very noticeably crooked nose, on account of it being broken so many times. His men say he keeps it fractured without ever re-positioning it on purpose, to make it evident that he is indeed a giant brute; quick with a sword but not with wit. His right hand man Leif usually does most of the talking, definitely the more patient of the two.

I confined myself to a small hut on the outer ring of the village, its comprises of no more than 100 small huts, and since the arrival of this yob, at least 40 tents. Previously home to my friends and family, we'd lived peacefully in the forest of Dean, hidden amongst the great trees, tucked away safely in Cannop. We'd never felt any danger, the safety in being situated in the middle of nowhere where only the village folk knew their way in and out, merchant traders would pass through but even they would be someone who originated from Cannop.

I lived with my grandmother, she was blind and as hard it as it may be to believe, she had heard them coming a while back. One night, just as I was about to put out the fire, she started muttering that the wind smelt different, and the trees were groaning too loudly. She had a habit of speaking in riddles but as one of the longest living elders of Cannop, I knew she could smell real trouble.

I grabbed my father's sword and rushed to alert Alcott, being aware of not waking the village and causing unnecessary panic. Alcott was my age and the son of our village chief representative, Carden, who lived with his family at the centre of the huts circular formation. Carden warned us not to panic and calmly asked Alcott and his twin sister Luella to start gathering the weapons from a nearby shed that was being used as an armoury. There was never real cause to have one but the rumours about swarms of Danes terrorising towns and conquering cities had even spread to our little village, and Carden felt it necessary to stay prepared.

Leif rode in accompanied by 30 of his men, with strict orders not to storm the huts in their usual fashion, burning things down and killing any man in their way whilst dragging the women they desire off to have their disgusting way with them, before killing them as well. In a fucked up way I always admired Leif for that.

They had their weapons brandished and you could tell they were itching to charge forward and hunt, growling and snarling, they'd stare the men down and whistle at the women as we all emerged from our homes to see what all the commotion was about. Leif called out to ask if any of us knew Danish, though he spoke in English to ask us. Carden stepped forward and began to converse with Leif, who was still on his horse. I could understand parts, I knew Alcott and Luella could understand more. Since the rumours, Carden had taken it upon himself to teach the children both Danish and Norse for if such an occasion were to arise, if we were ever caught off guard we would know how to negotiate our surrender. I never thought it would actually happen so I didn't pay too much attention. Way to go, idiot.

I could see Alcott from my peripheral, his right hand gripped tightly around an axe he'd made a few weeks back. He was so proud of it, he didn't stop showing off, throwing it at trees for 6 days straight. His blonde hair was a mess but he had time to suit up, wearing a black leather tunic and his long brown boots. Handsome. Brave. Dashing. Like his dad. Like his sister. Who stood beside him in a matching tunic. His mum must have made them.

I don't think the vikings much appreciated that heroic display as much as I, as 5 of the vikings had their eyes completely fixed on Carden and his brood. They knew they posed a threat and they wanted first blood. Like dogs on chains. My grandmother had come to hear what all the fuss was about, though I protested against it there wasn't much I could do against an 87 year old woman who knew every inch of this village better than I knew my own body, sight or no sight. I stood behind her, guarding and waiting. "What manner of man smells this foul?" She huffs. I couldn't laugh as the air felt colder and the conversation felt like it was starting to heat up. "They can fight" Carden says. The context is now lost on me, I've been too distracted. "Keep them" What is he talking about?

I see Alcott and Luella exchange grim looks and Luella looks like she's about to throw one of her daggers, Alcott grabs her arm and harshly whispers something to her, the vikings staring at her lick their lips. Something is going wrong. What is going on? I feel the knots start to form in my gut, I can feel it's poison start to spread and I have to breathe deeper to slow my heart rate. Not now. This isn't one of our tests, why the fuck is this happening now? Suffering from an anxious disposition from a young age has always failed me, I couldn't let it get to me now, not while lives were at stake.

Grandma grabs my hand. "Come back. Now!" she spits at me. Someone screams. It's Luella, I look over and Carden he's been grabbed by his hair by Gorm who has appeared on a horse as if from thin air, he lifts Carden a few inches off the ground and in one swift motion slits his throat. Blood spurts out covering the side of Leif's horse as he let's go of Carden, dropping his spasming body to the ground. What happened? They were just talking? What the fuck? Carden's... dead? Their numbers multiply in seconds as more emerge from the darkness. Luella is sprinting towards them now, daggers in her hands, screaming bloody murder but one of the archers they have awaiting in the left flank shoots her straight in the head. One of the dog like Danes turns and curses, gesticulating and cursing in both English and Norse. "I wanted her for myself you fucking pig! Curse you and your whore of a mother!"

Alcott is screaming now. And crying. They laugh at him. He charges forward, and so do our fighters, a mix of our men and women. The vikings charge too. Stop. Everything's in slow motion. They'll kill us all. The poison's spread to my chest and the air becomes thin. Wake up (y/n) Please tell me this is all just-

I feel Grandma digging her nails into my palm, I look into her milky eyes. She's crying. She never cries. "You have to fight (y/n) FIGHT! And live!"


	2. Lodda

GASP I stab the wall beside me and the blade pierces through, again. I breathe deep. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Fiiive. Siix. Seveneightnineten. 

God I hate breathing slow. It makes everything more painful. I choke on my own breath and cough a few times. Feeling myself come back into existence. Waking up. My clothes are drenched. I stink. Sweat and tears. Salty and sticky. Not that anyone will care. I pull out my blade from the wall, the small slit I've created neatly aligned with the 12 other slits I've made form quite an entrancing horizontal pattern of lights. Yep. Definitely morning. I should really fill those in. I dig out the tear soaked crud from the corners of my eyes and let out an unnecessarily loud yawn. Fuck I need to eat something my breath stinks. I grab the tankard off the floor from the side of my bed, drinking the tepid water until empty. Discarding it on the bed I roll out and take a deep stretch. Time to limber up. I drop straight to the ground and hammer out my morning usual of 50 press ups, 50 sit ups, 50 squats with weights and a good 10 minutes of various stretching. Whatever my body is screaming for me to do. I glance at my dagger re-sheathed and back underneath my bed .... No. Not that. Not fucking that.

I'm thirsty again, I crawl away from my bed and into the furthest corner of the room. I lift the lid of the huge water barrel to see how much water I have left. ¼ left. Time for a water run. I give myself a flannel bath, with 2 flannels and 2 small buckets filled with cold water, hot if I can be bothered to wait for it to boil. Cleaning all the essential areas. Afterwards gnawing on a piece of stale bread while sliding on my clothes, tunic with undergarments, wolf fur-lined hood and my long, brown boots. I miss you guys.

I grab my father's sword, in it's leather harness sheath, looping the belt under my left armpit, over my right shoulder and fasten it into place. Another day to kill. Swinging the large water barrel over my shoulder, hearing it clunk against my sword with each step, I head out.

It's quiet outside. Fuckers must still be asleep. Lazy pricks. They haven't had much cause to move lately but by God these brutes could sleep.

I head straight for the trees behind my hut, heading west towards the brook, or rather, the river, as it was so vast it really didn't deserve to be called a brook. It split off in several directions pulling in water from different regions, it was always clean and fresh, with plenty of rocks and minerals on the way which filtered out any crap. "The best water for miles" everyone always said. I keep my pace to a light jog, the clunking becomes part of my rhythm, and I exhale in puffs through my mouth. The stale bread is slightly coming back up and I force myself to swallow. 

As I near the brook I feel my tension start to fall away, my pace slows and I survey the area. I've never let them see this place. Don't want them pissing and shitting all over it, destroying every good memory I have. 

If I'm ever on the brink of death, I will use every ounce of energy I have left to crawl back here to die. I silently recite this pact to myself, I always do whenever I return.

I descend the steep sides of the brook slowly, using the overgrown shrubs to keep my balance. I can hear the water, smell the earth around it, more alive than anywhere else. So peaceful. I gently set down the barrel beside a rock that stops it from rolling away and kneel down, tickling my fingers against the icy cold water. I wonder where you're going now. I hope it's somewhere just as beautiful. I allow myself to smile, now is the only time I can, while others can't see and mistake me for weak. I always smile by myself now. I scoop up a small handful and drink, cold and fresh. The best water for miles! I giggle as I take another handful and splash it on my warm face, the water mixing with the sweat that runs down my cheeks and neck.

"So guys, I had those dreams again last night. They scared the shit out of me, like always. Except the axe was bigger which was so weird, you're definitely compensating even on the other side, Alcott. Bet you don't get water like this where you are though." I laugh to myself, I've been filling the barrel as I talk out loud, it gives me comfort to think that the water is carrying my messages to them, or whatever spirits want to listen. 

It's almost full when I see a yellow flash in the corner of my eye. I stand straight up, letting go of the barrel which is now so heavy it has no chance of rolling anyway, my dagger from my leg sheath ready in my hand.

Seeing shit now (y/n)? Come on. My eyes dart around, up to the trees making sure no one is watching me from up high? Nothing. Down the bank of the brook, left and right? Nothing. Behind me hidden over the steep banks amongst the bushes? Nothing. Ok definitely fucking losing it? Unless one of those pricks woke up early to try follow me? I growl and grumble to myself. "OI! FUCKFACE! IF YOU WANT TO END UP LIKE THE OTHERS COME THE FUCK OUT NOW?! OTHERWISE PISS OFF!!" ...I'm now almost certain I probably just saw a bird fly past, or a spirit...

Rustling. North east. 35 meters away at least. I grab some of the loose vines and clamber up to higher ground, ready stance low to the ground on a small mound a few meters away from where I was filling the water. I have some more distance which means I'm fucked in a long range attack, but if I can tell where they are I can dodge and make a run for it. Or it could be one of THEM in which case I know exactly what to do. I stare down the corner of the forest I am certain I heard the rustling from, breathing slow and deep.

A few minutes pass and nothing happens, I decide to cautiously make my way back down to retrieve my water barrel and head back to my hut. If they wanted to do something, I would definitely be in the dirt right now. Gotta get back just in case they're still out there. And in the same vein as before, definitely heavier and slower I lug my pot of silver back to the village. 

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I really hope somewhere here enjoys the 'yellow flash' reference. As I have just started rattling this off as a wonderful little past time it has expanded ten fold over night so I really hope you enjoy it guys! I promise you see more from our favourite angry boy next!


	3. Ny

I'd been gone for at least an hour, I could hear the men waking up and going about their own morning routines. The grunts from the tents left little to the imagination, morning wanks, followed by the hungover barking of breakfast demands and then the hourly fights over something as trivial as one of the idiots sitting on another's seat. The boredom had swept the entire camp, and as most of the women had been "disposed of" and the plan of action halted, many of the men had resorted to simply over-drinking and passing out by late afternoon, and that's saying something when it comes to Vikings.

2 of the brutes emerge from a bush after their morning shit and notice me approaching my hut, barrel in hand and not at all amused by their topic of conversation. I glare back at them, confident and unperturbed, making a point to slowly lower my gaze to their midriff then crotch region. I cock my eyebrows. No weapons. Careful now. Wouldn't want to lose something, would you? This sends them wandering off towards the centre in a brisk jog, hands firmly on their belts, whispering some sort of profanities to each other, they wouldn't dare say it to me.

I sigh and slowly kick open the door, lugging my now too heavy barrel into my humble quarters. I make sure the door is shut behind me before dropping to my knees and let out a loud groan. FUUUUCK I have to stop jogging like that, I'm strong but not that strong. I quickly wrestle off my sword and roll onto my back gasping for air. My legs and back feel like they're on fire. I definitely overdid it today. Think I was too spooked by the possible attack earlier, if they were still watching me I couldn't let it seem like I was too weak to fight at any point. I need to focus on breathing through my nose, the air keeps burning my throat and I don't recover as fast. My head is spinning. Come on breathe deep and slow. One. Two. Three. Four. Fi-

I can hear a commotion outside. There's one voice yelling louder than usual "Someone's here! Get ready you lazy scrotes!!" I sit up and keep listening, they aren't orders for an attack, someone is approaching the village. "Fuck please don't let it be one of the traders!" The last 2 who arrived had their stocks ransacked, one of whom was a young lad who was immediately killed for talking back to Gorm, and the other trader, an older gentleman was let go but had his assets and clothes stripped. I wasn't able to locate him once he'd been run out of the village with arrows shot at his feet for good measure. I could only hope his death wasn't painful.

I decided to leave my waster at home, taking a second to compose myself before I make my way into the centre. Some of the men acknowledge me wandering through the crowds, whispering as I pass. The drunkards tripping over themselves in excitement that something was happening. I make my way undisturbed to the front of the crowd that had gathered towards the village's main entrance, a large square gap purposely formed by sawing down 8 surrounding trees and now marked off with Nordic flags. Viking territory now.

"General Leif! Good to see you again, still as ugly as when you left!" the men burst into laughter as Leif dismounts from his horse and friendly punches and handshakes are exchanged between them. Leif wasn't ugly at all for a barbarian, he had dark brown hair that had been shaved on both sides but kept long at the top, fashioned into a neat braided plait embellished with various feathers and wooden beads. His face was chiselled, slim nose, full but chapped raw lips, and brown eyes that always seemed to be focused elsewhere. Never angry looking.

Behind him approaching at different speeds, a few men I recognised and amongst them a vast number of men I didn't. All dirty, scruffy and exhausted. Some on horseback, many on foot, a few on a small wagon pulled by two very malnourished looking horses. The most noticeable of the new group was a tall man with blonde spiky hair with an awful receding hairline, a matching spiky goatee, with a deep scar above his right eyebrow. Stern looking and slim, he was clearly their leader. Trotting forwards he squints at the rabble before him unimpressed, catching me in his moving gaze before swiftly dismounting his horse.

"Askeladd! You beautiful son of a bitch! Come here!" to my right Gorm pushes past and embraces the groups new addition. Askeladd? Weird name. He looks like a twig compared to Gorm who has Askeladd in smothering hug, but Askeladd is taller and more muscular. He wraps his arms around Gorm in equal gaiety. "Gorm! My brother, it's been too long. Have you lost weight? I can actually reach my hands all the way around you now!" he guffaws.

I haven't seen anyone talk about Gorm's weight so casually without getting an arm broken, a testament to their friendship as Gorm slaps Askeladd playfully on the back and laughs with him. "Listen all of you, these fine men here are our own now! You six! Go cut down as many trees as we need to house them and their horses! Start the biggest fire you can make! Tonight we celebrate and feast!" House these fuckers? Good god. There's going to be even more of them here now? I shake my head and watch as some of our men step forward to welcome our new band, many with far less enthusiasm as Gorm but there is a genuine ripple of happiness that something new has happened since their arrival.

Horses are led towards the stables and I stroke a few as they walk past, and then I feel it... the few men who have spotted me and are attempting to figure out what I am are staring at me with the same hunger as the original bunch had when they first arrived. I stare them back sternly. Here we go again. If any of you cunts lay a finger on me- I'm suddenly brought back by Leif who has approached me and puts a warm hand on my shoulder "Don't do anything here. You'll be ambushed" he mutters in Norse. I stare up at him. He has a point, not just the newcomers, they don't understand my position here, but clearly this Askeladd guy means a great deal to Gorm, if I start anything they'll all rush me and lord knows what they will do to make an example out of me. Besides not all of them have noticed that I am definitely a woman. I'll be safe if I just keep my head down.

I grunt in agreement and punch Leif in the shoulder Why are one of them? You're so much better than them. I purposely adjust my gait to come across more threatening, turning towards the horse drawn cart. I eye some the supplies they've brought along with them, barrels of ale and sacks of what looks like grain and vegetables. I'm definitely strong enough to make a statement, those pigs wouldn't believe an English woman could lift triple her own weight, what better way to blend in? As I go to grab one of the huge sacks from the back a boot swings off the cart and almost hits me in the face. I jump back in time growling at whoever almost kicked my teeth in. The cart rocks slightly as the individual jumps off. It's a young man, way younger looking than the rest of them. Dressed in dirty off cream coloured tunic, with bright messy yellow hair, staring right back at me with a look of complete shock. Wait... where have I seen that yellow before?

We stare at each other for a moment, his look turns quickly from shock to an angry frown. Fucks his problem? I've never known any of these men to have an outwardly sunny disposition as they were all constantly scowling, but this one in particular has a scowl that shoots daggers. His lips chapped and pressed into a pout, his golden eyes staring straight into my soul. How old is this guy? He definitely isn't much older than me. How'd he wind up so angry looking? But I guess he is one of THEM. I doubt he has any semblance of moral fibre. As barbaric as the rest of them. He clicks his tongue and pushes past me, taking a long stretch and yawning and he strides off in no particular direction. I cringe as he moves past and the wind catches his scent. Urgh. He smells like blood and shit. Don't these lot ever bathe?

I watch him saunter off and turn myself back to the task at hand. I realise some of the men had watched our little encounter, I keep my head down and follow the cart as it's wheeled further centre where the men have begun preparations to expand the camp and the fire. 

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[There's our boii! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next one's going to be a lot shorter but more of our boy and our OC to come!]


	4. Lide

I help drag and lift sacks, crates, barrels. Leading the group of men instructed by Lief to help me. They keep their distance from me, but we manage to clear the carts and fill our stocks within a couple of hours. The original lot hadn't ventured out enough to keep our stocks replenished and we were beginning to run out of food, but this Askeladd guy had brought enough food and drink to keep us going for a good 5-6 months, if these gluttons can exercise any form of self control. 

"Weeks of pillaging this is! We've been needing somewhere to settle so to show our unyielding gratitude, what's ours is now yours!" Askeladd exclaims to Gorm as he circles the camp admiring the handiwork of everyone who, under Gorm's strict orders, had been hastily rushing around building tents and new housing structures, cutting down trees, my beautiful trees, and rounding up enough firewood and kindling to make a fire so big I genuinely think these idiots might just burn the entire village down.

Gorm guffaws and slaps Askeladd on the back "Get your head out my ass Askeladd! We know you've suffered heavy losses! Take what you need and make sure you lend us a hand when we need it!"

Askeladd smirks and hits Gorm back with equal force making Gorm grunt, he rubs his neck and laughs. Sometimes watching these animals interact like normal people brings me some sort of weird comfort.

I stare at Gorm laughing and see Carden with his throat slit, blood pouring down his pale body. Fuck. Stop. He's not there. Breathe! It isn't real. I turn my back away from the men and move out of sight, making my steps as even as possible to not arouse suspicion. I need to get back inside! They can't see me like this! I weave through the men and take a route I know behind the huts, I pick up the pace as I fade from sight. Almost there. Breathe. One, Two, Three, Four- Oof! I've walked straight into something. Nope. Someone. It's the blonde one from before.

He's staring at me with that scowl again. Oh fuck not you again. I don't have time for a staring match I need to get away from everyone. The hatred and pain is rising in my chest and I can feel myself on the verge of breaking down. I can hear Luella's scream in my head. Move (y/n) move! 

I break first, taking a step to his left to get away but he steps to his left too blocking my path. What the fuck is his deal? Does he know? I look at his face again and snarl at him, he's only slightly taller than me and not at all intimidating, not compared with what I've had to deal with. His eyes are darting around my face then my body, up then down again. I feel my chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. Shit. He knows. He has definitely figured it out already. I only have my dagger in my boot. He has two daggers on him, front and back, he will definitely be faster than me if it came to a fight.

As I try to figure out my next move I notice he's stopped scowling which completely disarms me, he looks so different for a moment. He sighs and slowly starts to move closer to me. Fuck! No! Not again! "MOVE!" I growl at him as I push past him and sprint, taking a hard right turn down the path I know has me 12 huts away from my own.

I don't look back or slow down, I can't hear him chasing me. Why did he do that if he isn't going to chase me? What did he want? Tears are streaming down my face and I really can't hold it together anymore. 

I crash through my door and slam it shut tightly. Face and hands pressed against it. I can't breathe deep or slow. I let everything I've felt all day go, choking on each breath, tears burning my eyes, letting myself slowly fall to the ground. It hurts. Everything fucking hurts. I'm so alone here. Acting like I'm one of them now? Helping THEM? My family would be so disappointed. Alcott would be so angry... Luella would hate me. They all probably do, wherever they are. They are watching me. Cursing me. I don't want to be here Grandma. I don't want to live! Please just let me go. Let me leave.

I sob, heavy and loud, at this point I don't care if anyone hears me. 

I want this habit to stop, the amount of times it happens in a day has definitely decreased over the past few months. But there are time's where I am unable to leave this hut at all, plagued by the images of Luella.. Alcott... I let myself starve if I have to. Grandma. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't even be here. 

I lie balled up in that spot by the door for at least an hour, my trance disturbed by the low rumbling in my stomach. I wash my face, drink as much as I need to replenish the tears I shed and grab some dried salted meat. Curling up into bed I nibble at it and wait for dusk.

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**Thanks for reading guys~!**

**One thing I feel so necessary to add to this is to add the effects of mental health to these situations, even writing some of these scenes triggers my anxiety. I can only imagine what my girl is going through! She is indeed strong, but we all have that side that is fragile. But don't worry... our girl gets even stronger!**


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